The Infinite Miners

The wind is uncomfortable, almost biting, The souls, in all their agony, begin reciting, The unfinished walls, dripping with red paint, blood, The fences scream, but just like their lives, are stopped with a single brazen thud. The hands, gravelling aggressively, soon succumb to the sweat, The lips dry, swollen, and pink, are blessed with the smoke from the infinite cigarette, The ground beneath, shakes and trembles, just as their fragile grey bodies, Their shirts, dripping of the stench of a thousand dead rats, that they would, in all their magnificence, rather be. Their ghosts circle the hole in the ground, contemplating, Their chests, bare naked, just as the day they were ...

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A servant’s dream; to be like Chris Mukhtar

“Those who are silent when others are oppressed are guilty of oppression themselves.” – Imam Hussain (AS) “Let’s go from a shorter way today. Take the second left, next to the barber shop.” “Yes sir.” As they turned, a group of mud houses came in sight, where children seem to be playing the same games they were years ago. She smiled. She glued herself to the right window and tried to take in each expression as a car passed with two inquiring eyes. The car slowed down as the road suddenly thinned and her sight got stuck with an oddity. A house unlike any ...

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Unfinished memories

The candles in the room remain un-blown, The crevices on the bed still untouched, By the morning due, unknown, The fists still in pain, unclutched. The walls of the baby’s room still unfinished, The toys still placed on the corner, diminished, Papers on the table top still wet with tears, The wind still screams in all its fears. The air in the atmosphere seems uncomfortable, grasping, With all its might to make some sense of the situation that might just not be, What could have been, still shadows over the eternal debate between reality and death. The paint in the room still, unfinished, reminds them of all they gave up, All they sacrificed for the loved one ...

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Time

Her breath was already heavy last night. Her heartbeat at 45 clicks a minute. But it beat. Quietly and clearly; it pumped on. The light on the monitor was green and it would beep every now and then. The sound meant she was alive. It’s been three weeks since I’ve been in here. At first I thought the walls would close in on me. It felt claustrophobic, but not anymore. I know the nurses by their first names now, and the chef at the cafeteria turned out to be an old college colleague. He always had a knack for cooking. ...

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Conversations and resistance

When does a leaf change colour? Is it in the middle of a night? Or in the day when no one’s looking? Is it when the wind gives it wings?   Or when it’s completely still? When the new one arrives, a packed luggage in hand, What does the old colour say? Does the guest get a single room, And take over each of the others, little by little?   How do colours allow themselves to be mixed, Giving up their arms so easily, Embracing the invasion and the invader? Why does the new colour leave behind, No trace of the old. When fingers trace a leaf’s texture, Can they feel the resistance, or a lack thereof, that ...

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Treachery

As the sky rolls over, My mind begins to hover, To be, Or not to be. Eternity seems not too distant, Life seems not too consistent, The ocean wreaks havoc in its tides, The rain kills off all who hides, Death takes me with its gleaming hand, “Let’s go, Son, it’s not for you, this land,” Fog starts to roll in, My heart starts to fade in. I feel nature’s looming presence around me, The pills, the knife or the sea? I slowly thrust the knife into my stomach, My pain starts to slowly fade in to the distance. My head starts to tremendously ache, I remember all the times I could have shown some resistance, All the ...

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Illusions exist

If I sit here, in this room for just a moment, what would change? What would happen? Just a minute, one moment. All to myself. Would the world change if I let myself forget about it? It forgot about me. It forgot about me a long time ago. So now I sit here frozen. Frozen in time. I can’t move. I’m trying so hard, but I can’t. I sit here staring at my legs, willing them to work. I’m willing myself to move, I swear. My legs won’t work. My feet won’t move. My toes won’t wiggle. The room is so small, all I can feel are ...

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Equidistant dots

He picked up his notebook, and he saw that it was filled with equidistant dots, page after page. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...

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Dear Abba, I’m sorry

Dear Abba, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for crying profusely when you held me in your arms for the first time, and stopped sulking as soon as you kissed my forehead and handed me over to Ammi. I had just opened my eyes in this world, and I was unsure of your love. I was your first son, but somehow was always more connected to Ammi. I’m sorry for the time when you picked a crying me up from my cot, held me in your arms, wearing your crisp, trademark double-pocketed shalwar kameez, early in the morning ready to go to work, and I drenched you ...

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Tooti, saari ki saari mein

“She sat there, a queen on her heavenly throne, radiating beauty that I had never witnessed before. She seemed flawless, perfect, an embodiment of purity yet powerful enough to evoke awe and wonder. Her hair is a rich shade of black, short but swaying because of the light breeze coming through a slightly ajar window. Those luscious locks complimented her beaming skin. Her straight-edged nose made her look regal, as if any moment she’d place a tiara on her head and walk around with authority. She commands respect; there is an aura of sensuality about her. I can smell her; I can feel her and ...

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